The Zodiac Braves
by BG-57
Summary: As thirteen Espers aid the DynastKing's heir, the prophet Ajora Glabados plans to free them from their slavery. His disciples, the twelve legendary Zodiac Braves. History brands one named Germonik a traitor. But who was really betrayed? Chapter 2 is up!
1. The Judge Sal

The Zodiac Braves

A Final Fantasy XII/Tactics Fanfiction

By BG-57

Chapter 1

The rain fell hard on the spires of Zeltennia city. Even in the gloom the city was magnificent. Ancient steeples poked up among the hundreds of small houses that crowded the narrow thoroughfares. A castle with high white crenellated walls crowned kept mute watch over the town. The view in the back alley was less spectacular, thought the derelict man. Even curled in a dark corner under a large overhanging eave, water dripped steadily down onto his brown leather cape. A hood concealed his eyes, but his scraggly beard and long unkempt hair were red going grey in places. Long ragged clothes covered the rusted armor he wore underneath the cape. He wondered idly if he really had hit bottom or if there was further to fall. As if to answer that question a dark shadow crept quietly into the alley, like a rat looking for scraps.

"Pardon me Sir," asked a rough voice, "Do you have alms for the poor?" The bedraggled man had stubble and a dark look in his ebon eyes.

"I would hardly be here if I did," he chuckled, "And Sir Germonik hardly suits me."

"What are you, a foreigner?" wondered the second man suspiciously, "Where you from?"

"Archadia," replied the first man evenly, "But I owe allegiance to no land now."

"Surely you have at least some spare change," ventured the beggar.

"I have nothing, now be on your way my good man."

"I'm not your good man, foreign scum!" spat the beggar whipping out of knife and holding it close to the derelict's throat, "Now strip off those rags." For the first time Germonik looked up revealing steely blue eyes between the locks of long hair.

"I will give you only what you deserve," he replied calmly as he pulled out an oblong cloth-wrapped bundle and held it out, "Though I suggest you decline."

The thief sneered and grabbed the package. Suddenly there was an eruption of fire and sparks that echoed deafeningly across the alley. The beggar slumped over backwards, a vague look of surprise crossing his face and then fading to emptiness. Germonik slowly stood and reloaded the Sirius pistol before putting it into a bag slung across his shoulder. He then looked down at the dead man.

"For crimes of theft and assault the accused has been found guilty," he stated automatically, "No appeals are permitted."

He started to leave the alleyway but the paused thoughtfully, then untied a tattered blanket and laid the thief across it. Germonik then folded the dead man's arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

"May the gods guide thy soul to rest from the weary burdens of life," he prayed, "Falam."

It was then he noticed the purse on the beggar's belt. He undid the string and found it contained a modest amount of Gil. Not very profitable to rob the poor, but safer: at least usually. Germonik stood there for a moment, hesitating. It was wrong to profit from murder, especially if they were ill-gotten gains. Although perhaps the money was the sign he was waiting for.

With the pouch of Gil safely tucked away he made his way down to the waterfront. A wharf was constructed on the banks of the freezing Finath River. It was here that barges made their way up to trade with other cities. He crossed over a simple stone bridge with low railings. On the far side he saw that a traveling band had set up a tent and attractions. Fortune telling and maypoles held no interest for him but the barker's speech outside the large tent caught his attention.

"…half woman, half animal! Nowhere in Ivalice can you see such wonders for so little! Only twenty Gil!"

The barker was a dapper man with a handlebar mustache and raven hair slicked back. He stood under the entrance flap of the tent so his bright red trousers and vest did not get wet.

"How much again?" asked Germonik.

"Twenty Gil!" replied the barker eagerly, "Ah, a visitor from another land."

"In a manner of speaking," he replied pulling out two ten-Gil pieces.

"As am I," said the barker with a twinkle, "I always appreciate a man of the world."

"Show me the creature," stated Germonik tersely.

"A man who speaks his mind!" replied the barker cheerfully pulling back a tent flap, "Take a seat anywhere."

In the gloom Germonik saw a few benches arranged in a semicircle around a box covered by canvas sailcloth. He took a seat and let the water drip off his cloak onto the floor. Another patron got up and moved a few prudent benches further away from him. Not that he blamed him; he would have avoided himself as well. Finally the barker lured enough people into the tent and took his place next to the box.

"We are all curious about the unknown and unexplainable…," he began.

"Just open it already!" barked a satisfied customer behind Germonik.

"I give you the result of a hideous grafting experiment of the demented alchemist Rugeven!" he yelled dramatically as he pulled away the sailcloth. Beneath was a cage containing what look at first like a dark-skinned woman with frazzled snow white hair. But looking closer he could see large ears like a Dreamhare's and a small fluffy tail on her posterior. Long nails protruded from her elongated fingers and toes. She was dressed in a shapeless grey tunic and had a collar chained to the four corners of the cage. Her amber eyes lifelessly scanned the crowd that pressed up close for a better view.

"A Viera," murmured Germonik thoughtfully as he rose from his seat.

"Gentlemen, please do not poke the creature," ordered the barker sternly, "She cost a fortune!"

Germonik pushed in between two other shady looking men so he was close to the Viera's tattered right ear.

"Viera," he whispered, "You are far from Eruyt village and Wood you once knew." Her eyes suddenly came to life, but she didn't look up at him.

"Imperial are you?" she whispered back, "Far from home are you as well."

"How you must hate Humes," he guessed, "Would you kill us if you had the chance?" She simply nodded. He placed the wrapped pistol on the floor and slowly pushed it into the cage, where she quickly covered it with her hand.

"Don't disappoint me," he said and turned to leave.

"Where are you going, friend?" demanded the barker, "You haven't seen her performance yet!" Germonik felt like his skin would crawl off.

"I have seen all I wish to see," he said between gritted teeth, "I wish you a smooth journey." The barker released his arm and stared at him slightly fearfully. Germonik smiled and walked out into the rain.

He was halfway across the bridge when he heard the first shot. The second and third followed a moment later. Then pandemonium as the crowd screamed and ran for their lives. In his haste, one of the customers knocked him over the railing. He plunged into the icy waters and found himself dragged under by his armor and the fierce current. Well, if he drowned, that would finish things.

"Do your worst!" he howled up to the thundering heavens in between gasps.

Sometime later he slowly opened his eyes to see he was sprawled on a muddy riverbank near a stand of trees and tall grasses. Wildflowers bloomed nearby as he tried to get up and failed. It was then he noticed the man walking towards him. Although the stranger was dressed in a white robe, his feet weren't dirty. He had a noble face with piercing hazel eyes and long silver hair that flowed past his shoulders. He carried a walking staff in one hand and smiled benevolently down at him.

"Judge Germonik Albecross of Archadia," he said in a melodious voice, "What do you seek?"

It didn't occur to Germonik to be surprised that the stranger knew his name; he must be in the afterlife.

"I just want…," he pondered, "Justice."

"Follow me and you shall have what you wish for," said the stranger holding out a hand.

"At what price?" he ventured squinting suspiciously up at him.

"You must give up all attachments to this world," replied the man in white.

"Let me consider it," said Germonik as he closed his eyes sleepily.

"As you will."

At first it was dark, but then he found himself standing in a large airy hall. Around him were Imperial soldiers in armor like himself. A Judge Magister was facing him and he could vaguely hear shouting. There was a sharp crunching sound of metal piercing metal. Looking down, he saw a sword protruding from his chest, right through the heart….

Geromonik woke up with a start, bathed in sweat. To his surprise he found himself in a four-poster bed with a canopy. He looked down and saw he had been bathed and was wearing a clean nightshirt. Faint sunlight drifted in through the latticework of the windows, illuminating a table and candelabra. Ornate tapestries hung on the walls depicting pastoral scenes of young women frolicking with chocobos. He pulled back the maroon blanket and tried to stand up, but found a dozen bruises all over arguing against that course. He sighed and slumped back onto the pillow. The door opened a crack and he heard a whispered conservation followed by some feminine giggling.

"I hope you're feeling better," said a woman striding into the room. She had long honey blond hair and bright blue-violet eyes. She wore a low cut blue gown that exposed her bosom, which was only partially concealed by a shawl. Some stray locks of her hair were bound with leather thongs and she wore a pendant around her neck. As she reached over to feel his forehead he caught the scent of her flowery perfume. Up close she was older than he had first guessed, but no doubt she had dyed the gray out of her hair.

"Thank you, er, Miss…?" he began haltingly.

"Madam, actually," she corrected quietly, "Madam Violet."

"Geromonik," he replied, "How did I get here?"

"You can thank Hilde," said Violet, "She's waiting outside."

Geromonik turned to the door and saw the Viera from before walk in. She was now dressed in a form-fitting black suit with a familiar looking red vest over it.

"Greetings again," she said in a slightly husky voice.

"You saved me?" he wondered still staring at the vest, "I thought you hated Humes."

"I do, but save for a few," she replied glancing at Violet. Suddenly he had another thought.

"Did you see another man where you found me?" he demanded, "A man in white?" She shook her head.

"You were alone and delirious," she replied, "I thought it best to bring you here."

"Hilde was working for me when she was kidnapped," said the Madam, "Thank goodness you found her."

"Working here…was she-?" he began but was unable to complete the sentence. Violet laughed politely behind an unfurled fan.

"Heavens no," she said, "She was working as my chef."

"I made soup," added Hilde indicating an empty tureen on the table.

"You were in a fever for days," added Violet, "You are quite lucky."

"Perhaps not," he stated dryly as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Violet rose and took his arm to steady him.

"So tell me why an Archadian Judge has paid Zarghidis Trade City a visit," she said.

"I thought we were in Zeltennia," he said, his mind racing, "And I'm not a Judge anymore."

"Fired were you?" wondered Hilde. In shock he looked at her but despite her bluntness he saw nothing but curiosity in her eyes.

"In a manner of speaking," he said with a wry smile as he felt the scar on his chest self-consciously.

"Are you in any pain?" inquired Violet leaning close to him in a way he found unnerving. Not that he was repulsed by her but he had shunned human contact for a long time and it was almost unbearable to experience it again.

"I've had worse," he said brushing off her concern, "I'm sorry I cannot repay your hospitality."

"I don't want your Gil," said Violet stiffly, "You have something far more valuable you can give me."

"Like what?" he wondered. She smiled uneasily, which she tried to conceal behind her fan.

"Stop by Madam Violet's when you are next in Zarghidis," she explained enigmatically, "And I'll tell you."

"Let us take our leave," said Hilde, "Our guest needs to rest."

Out in the hallway a gaggle of young women were waiting.

"How is he?" asked one.

"Is he feeling better?" inquired another.

"Can we help him?" suggested a third coquettishly.

"Off with you girls!" barked Violet sternly gesturing with her fan, "He needs rest!" At that the girls quickly retreated to their rooms.

"Like him, do you?" said Hilde. Violet looked at her helplessly and simply nodded.

"Any man who would save a Viera he does not know," she stated reaching up to gently touch Hilde's ears, "Has my gratitude and admiration."

"I will go," she said, "Protect him I will."

"Where is he going?" wondered Violet.

"That I know not," admitted Hilde, "But go he must." Violet couldn't reply to that; she simply embraced her old friend.

Some time later Geromonik emerged from the room with his hair and beard neatly trimmed, wearing his armor and cloak. Someone had spent a lot of time cleaning off the rust and polishing the metal chestplate, still bearing the twisted serpentine symbol of Archadia. He walked to a courtyard where he found Violet and Hilde waiting by a small reflecting pool. The Viera noted with amusement her mistress admiring the Archadian while bashfully hiding her face behind her fan. He certainly had an air of nobility about him.

"Again, you have my thanks," he said quietly, "But I have to take my leave."

"Come by anytime," replied Violet extending a hand, which he took and kissed.

"Let us depart then," said Hilde, gathering up her Sirius gun and a bag of ammunition. He stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. Who was he to argue with her?

"It's your funeral," he muttered.


	2. The Keeper of Precepts

Chapter 2

The sun rose in the sky, burning away the mists that concealed the mountain peaks. Still the valleys were in shadow as the pair of golden-feathered chocobos made their way through the mountain pass. The giant birds were wearing leather harnesses and blinders that kept them calm. The mountains were made of white granite, covered with green grass and trees that thinned out to summits covered with snow. Germonik for once was glad for his cloak and scarf to fight off the cold. He wondered how Hilde could cope wearing so little clothing, but her dress seemed typical compared to the Viera he had seen in Archades.

"Mount Germinas," she intoned pointing with a long finger. He followed her gaze to a tall majestic mountain that loomed to their left.

"I'll bet the view is lovely," he ventured.

"Seen it I have not," she admitted.

"Why not then?" he suggested. She looked at him blankly for a moment and then jerked the reins. Her chocobo began scaling the steep trail that led up to the peak. He quickly followed, finding the thinning air was winding the birds. Eventually they reached the top, where a staircase had been carved out of the rock. Germonik dismounted and led his mount up to the remains of a wooden platform and foundations. While he was still puzzling over their purpose, Hilde walked over and tied up the chocobos and left some greens for them to eat.

"Guard post," she explained, "The border of Zeltennia."

"What lies beyond?" he asked staring down the valley. The view was certainly magnificent. It was like they were on an island in a sea of clouds. Far below to the east he could make out a shimmering lake with a small village on the shore.

"Poeskas Lake," she said, "And beyond lies Limberry."

"Another kingdom?" he mused, "How many are there?"

"Seven," she explained.

"Another set of squabbling states," he sighed, "Just like Nalbradia and Dalmasca."

"Better than Imperial vassals?" she countered. He looked at her and then chuckled softly.

"Perhaps you're right," he admitted. Together they watched the sunrise.

It took them hours to ride down from the mountains into the flat plains of Limberry. Germonik finally spotted the village he had seen from the summit. It had a sad dilapidated air to it, like it would soon fall down. Although that would be a favor to everyone; ramshackle huts leaned into each other and fishing nets were stretched out along the shore. The smell was wood smoke mixed with dried fish.

As their chocobos reached the center of town they noticed the crater. It was off to one side the size of a house, with steep pitch-black walls. A small crowd of townspeople were gathered around the edge, carrying garbage and fish bones. One by one they began to hurl trash into the center.

"Horrid beast!"

"Filth!"

"Spare us from your poison!"

"What's going on?" demanded Germonik. The villagers looked up in surprise; most of them quickly retreated to their huts.

"Not expecting company?" wondered Hilde as they dismounted. An elderly man emerged from the largest house and hobbled towards them using a cane.

"Who are you?" he wondered, staring agog at Hilde's ears.

"Hilde," she replied then inclined her head, "Judge Germonik." Germonik opened his mouth to object, but decided to play along.

"I'm Gras," said the old man, "I'm the mayor of this village."

"What happened here?" inquired Germonik, trying his best to look dignified.

"That accursed alchemist!" snapped the mayor angrily, "He got blown up in one of his crazy experiments!" Germonik walked over to the edge of the pit and peered down. The bottom was dark, but he could make out a pile of decomposing trash.

"And you use it as a garbage pit now?" he wondered. He froze in his tracks when he saw movement in the pit.

"We deposit all our refuse in there now," said Gras, "And our hatred."

"Hatred?" asked Hilde.

"Yes, we use it as a scapegoat. Things are much worse since the explosion. The fish are dying and our livelihood is in danger."

Germonik jumped into the crater, sliding down the steep walls. At the bottom he found himself knee-deep in garbage.

"Hello?" he called out. He pulled out a stick and cast a fire spell on it to make a torch. A small shape stirred to life and retreated to the far end of the pit.

"Your Honor!" protested the mayor.

"Don't worry," said Germonik defensively, "I won't hurt you!" He waded carefully through the broken furniture and bones to see a small girl cowering under half of a fish rack. She was dressed in filthy gray rags and her right eye was covered in a bandage.

"Horrid beast," she whispered.

"Sorry?" he said, blinking.

"I have sinned," she added, touching her bandaged eye.

"What crime?" he asked.

"Father wanted to learn things," she said, "Forbidden things." Germonik could hardly contain his disgust; he almost wished that Judge Bergen would pay a visit to loot and burn this place. He knelt down and held out a hand.

"What is your name?"

"Megara," she replied, "Although Father just called me Meg."

"I'm Germonik," he said with what he hoped was a smile, "Let's look at that eye."

"No!" she screamed, flames erupting around her. The fires spread to all the old wood and Germonik staggered back, coughing heavily. He fell over backwards and slumped against the wall, shielding his seared face with his hands. As quick as they had appeared, the flames dispersed, leaving a smoldering crater behind. Sometime later Germonik came to, and looked up and saw Meg looking fearfully down at him with an emerald eye, her ratty auburn hair streaming behind her.

"Please don't die!" she was begging.

"I'm not dying," he said as he sat up with a sigh. As he inspected his singed cloak he couldn't help but notice that his burns were gone.

"Did you do that?" he asked, "You're far too young to get a License." She just stared at him mutely. He bent over and picked her up and began to climb out of the pit. As they reached the top, Hilde leaned in and took his hand.

"I found her down there," he said, trying to contain his fury. Hilde and Meg inspected each other curiously. Then the Viera closed her eyes.

"I sense Nethecite in her body," she explained analytically, "Shards embedded in her chest and eye."

"It's that damned Alchemist's fault," moaned Gras, "We need her to punish in his place." Meg clutched desperately at Germonik's arm.

"As a scapegoat," said the Judge coldly, "Very well, I'll give you one." With that he shoved the mayor into the pit, where he screamed as he toppled down into the garbage. That brought out the other villagers, carrying cutting tools and spears. Hilde drew out her gun as Germonik drew out a Deathbringer sword. Meg hid behind his cloak.

"Let us pass," she warned.

"You can't take away our scapegoat!" protested a young man.

"There is no justice in revenge," snapped Germonik, "She has committed no crimes here."

"Her powers are killing our fish!" cried a young woman.

"It's the salt," explained Hilde, "Water leaves, but salt has stayed."

"We'll take a dozen of you down," stated the Judge grimly, "Before you kill us." With that the villagers backed off. Hilde and Germonik mounted their chocobos and then he picked Meg off the ground.

"Please leave me," she protested, "They need someone to punish."

"Let them find someone else," he said as he snapped the reins. The birds galloped off to the setting sun, back toward the mountains. It was time to call in a favor.

It was dark outside when they reached the gate of Zarghidis Trade City. Meg had long ago fallen asleep in the saddle in front of Germonik. They reached the main square and returned the birds to the Moogle on duty at the stable. He carried Meg is his arms as they made their way down the back alleys that were mainly deserted. Hilde led the way to a row of tall houses with narrow gables fronting the street. She opened a wrought iron gate and they entered a magnificent garden of flowers and medicinal plants that glowed in the moonlight.

"Why is she a Madam?" he wondered out loud, "She should have been a gardener."

"Ask her," suggested Hilde standing at a covered porch. They entered through double doors into a luxuriously appointed parlor. Several men were lounging there, some of whom gave them a guilty look. Violet glided in, followed by several of her girls.

"Ah gentlemen!" she said, "So sorry to keep you waiting." She stopped in her tracks when she saw Hilde and Germonik. "Ladies, please take of our guests."

As her girls dealt with the clients, Violet led them into a back room where Germonik laid Meg in a large bed. After he carefully tucked her in, they then walked out into the corridor. Hilde wordlessly headed out to the kitchen out back.

"Orphan is she?" she inquired as she shut the door.

"Yes," he replied, "How did you know?"

"I was one myself," she replied with a strained smile, "It shows in the soul."

"I'm sorry to ask yet another favor," he began.

"Another mouth to feed," said Violet with a faint sigh as she put a hand on her hip, "I suppose it can't be helped."

"Violet!" he snapped his anger flaring up, "I mean…I…." She held up a hand and waved it dismissively.

"It's okay, I deserved that. Don't forget that I'm a businesswoman, and I have to think of profits." He stared at the wall and then suddenly turned back to her.

"Why sell yourself though?" he demanded, "Surely you could be selling flowers or herbs or jewelry." She laughed and unfurled her fan.

"Of course I should," she retorted, "But I'll need something from you first."

"I told you I have nothing to offer," he stated morosely.

"I want your name," she said, shyly taking his hand. It took him a moment to understand what she meant and even longer to realize she wasn't kidding. He pulled his hand away forcefully and turned to face away from her.

"T-that is the one thing I cannot give you," he stammered, "Not after what happened to my family."

"You're married?" she wondered, looking crushed.

"I was," said Germonik sadly, "But Celeste died after a plague struck Archades."

"And you had a child," guessed Violet glancing at the door where Meg slept. He couldn't speak, but his distraught expression answered that question for her. She reached out and touched his face gently as she placed her other hand on the back of his neck.

"Consider it a business arrangement," she whispered, "You get funding; I get respectability." He was flabbergasted.

"How could we?" he wondered, "Surely you're well known in Zarghidas."

"We could leave together," she suggested, "Start over somewhere else."

"You'd really do that," he stated flatly. It wasn't a question; he knew she meant it.

"Few decent men come to knock on my door," admitted Violet, "This may be my, no, _our_ last chance."

"Redemption," he murmured, "It may be too late for me."

"But not the rest of the world," she countered, "You still want to bring justice to this land." He had to laugh at that.

"Guilty as charged," he said with a defeated smile, "I suppose I can't refuse."

"Let's just say it would be unwise," she said with a smirk.


End file.
